


Supper Time

by ChubbyHornedEquine



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Bad Cooking, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 06:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16760212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChubbyHornedEquine/pseuds/ChubbyHornedEquine
Summary: In which Sypha tries, and fails, to cook a meal for her new family and Trevor has to save the day.





	Supper Time

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh my first fanfic! Just some domestic fluff between these three because it gives me life. Feel free to post suggestions or requests for other scenes, I'd love some ideas! I might even take a stab at some smutty ones (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ ! Hope you enjoy!

It had been only a few days since killing Dracula, and the cleanup felt endless. Demon bodies, vampire bodies, just bodies and blood and gore and shit and Trevor was tired and hungry. For convenience, they turned one of the rooms on the ground floor into a makeshift kitchen/dining/sleeping/whatever-they-needed room in the brief moments they weren’t disposing of corpses. Sypha disappeared some time ago with promises of food. Alucard followed shortly after without a word. Trevor wiped his brow, “Why the fuck am the I only working right now?”  
  
He made his way up the path and to the kitchen. His annoyance giving way to hunger. Some of the more grateful locals had brought gifts once they realized Dracula really was dead and gone. The last batch included a few crates of food, some vegetables, herbs, maybe even a pheasant or two.  
  
Trevor took a few steps into the main hall and gagged. Some _stench_ was filling the hall. A hall that had only recently been full of dead bodies so this was particularly rancid to stand out over all that.  
  
He turned into the kitchen, “I think we missed a body out there somewhere, there’s some god awful smell…wafting…” He realized, a little delayed, that the smell was coming from the pot over the fire at the far end of the room. Sypha stood in front of it, arms crossed, glaring at him.  
  
“Uh. Nevermind.”  
  
“What was that, Belmont?” Alucard sat on a barrel in the corner off to his right, a book in his lap. “I didn’t understand you with your foot so far down your throat.”  
  
“Look you—“  
  
An ice spike flew between them, imbedding itself into the wall. On the other side of the room Sypha lowered her hands. “Enough. We are going to sit down, like _adults_ , and eat a meal together. Yes?”  
  
Trevor and Alucard mumbled their agreements.  
  
“Excellent,” Sypha said as she moved to the table in the center. It looked as though she upended every crate of food they received in her efforts to cook…whatever was in that pot.  
  
“Sypha,” Alucard said, “to be honest, I’m only half-human, I don’t need to eat to sustain myself.”  
  
“I know…”  
  
“Though I’m sure Belmont would be glad to eat my portion. Being a growing hunter and all that.”  
  
Trevor scoffed, “I can show you how grown I am.” He’d meant it as a threatening insult but even he could tell as soon as it left his mouth the phrasing was not ideal.  
  
Alucard’s brow quirked.  
  
“Children,” Sypha said.  
  
There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell Trevor was going to be the only one choking down Sypha’s “food”. And after a moment, his plan of attack came to him.  
  
“You don’t need to eat human food, Alucard.”  
  
“Yes,” Alucard said slowly, as if talking to a child. “I quite literally just said that.”  
  
“But you can.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“It doesn’t hurt you.”  
  
“If there’s a point to be made, Belmont—“  
  
“It just,” he made his way over to Sypha, standing beside her, “saddens me that after all we’ve been through as comrades, brothers in arms, you still refuse to break bread with us.”  
  
“I—“  
  
“And I know,” he put a hand on Sypha’s arm, the look she gave him filled with suspicion, “how much our dear Sypha is missing her caravan, her people.” At that, her suspicion melted away and she let out a small sigh. Trevor shifted his gaze to an increasingly annoyed Alucard. “She left them you know,” he said, “to find you. And then we stayed to defeat Dracula. How many fond memories do you have, Sypha, of sitting down to a meal with them like this? And here you’re trying to share that with Alucard and I and, well, I don’t think he wants to be a part of that.”  
  
Trevor squeezed her hand and moved around her, flipping Alucard off as soon as he was out of her peripheral vision. When he came up on her other side he could tell she was disheartened and he almost felt bad.  
  
Then the smell from the pot hit him and his resolve to drag Alucard down with him renewed.  
  
“That’s alright, Alucard,” Sypha said. For as much as she chided the two of them for quarreling like children, letting their emotions fly high and get the better of them, Trevor thought she’d be better at hiding her own. But it was painfully clear she was disappointed and trying desperately to be big about it. “I understand. It hasn’t been that long since the battle and, well, this feels maybe a little celebratory and… I’m sorry.” She moved over to the pot, quietly stirring it.  
  
Trevor put a hand to his chest in mock hurt before turning to Alucard and putting on his most pathetic pout. He gestured to poor, sad Sypha.  
  
The vampire bared his teeth at him. With his index finger Trevor mimed a tear falling from his eye. Finally, Alucard cleared his throat. “No, Sypha,” he said. “ _You_ are not the one that should be sorry.” He glared pointedly at Trevor. “I’d be honored to eat with you.”  
  
She immediately brightened up. “Are you sure? We don’t have—“  
  
“I’m sure.”  
  
“Great! It should be done soon!”  
  
“Yes,” Alucard said, “it’s been bubbling like that for some time.”  
  
Trevor looked over the mess on the table. “What are you making?”  
  
“It’s a stew! Obviously. I thought it would be the simplest thing. A whole library on demons and magic and penis spells—“  
  
“You are never going to not mention that, are you?”  
  
“—and no cook books! Still. Stew is fairly simple, our cook in the caravan made it whenever we were able to sit for any length of time, as a treat. You—“  
  
“Wait,” Alucard said.  
  
“—just toss some ingredients in and—“  
  
“Sypha…” Trevor said.  
  
“Let it cook. What?”  
  
Trevor and Alucard exchanged glances. “You...weren’t the cook?” asked Trevor.  
  
“No. Did you assume I was because I’m a woman?”  
  
“What? No! I didn’t, shit, I didn’t say that. I just, well…” he looked to Alucard. All petty rivalry aside, he needed help with this. Neither of them wanted to eat bad food but now there was the question of whether it was even food at all.  
  
Alucard took his cue, “It’s not unheard of for larger groups to share duties. Rotating shifts so that one person isn’t left burdened and everyone…learns the skill.”  
  
She brushed them off with a wave of her hand, “We had one or two that were most proficient at it. But again, how hard can it be? I’m a Speaker. I dragged Dracula’s castle through space and pinned it to one place! I think can cook a stew.”  
  
“What kind of stew is it?”  
  
“A...meat…one?”  
  
Again Trevor and Alucard shared a look.  
  
Sypha crossed her arms, “Do you trust me?”  
  
“With my life,” said Trevor.  
  
“Great—“  
  
“But not with my stomach.” He went to the pot and gave it a stir. It was somehow watery in some places and almost creamy in others. And burnt on the edges. He was fairly certain she put the entire bird in. Whole. He looked away before he threw up into the damn pot.  
  
It might have been an improvement.  
  
“Well?” she asked.  
  
“It uh. It’s. Certainly liquid.”  
  
A quiet chuckle came from Alucard’s corner that was immediately drowned out by Sypha’s annoyed groan.  
  
Trevor put his hands on her shoulders. “Sypha. Sypha, look at me. I love you dearly,” he chose ignore the color that rose to her cheeks, “but I will not eat that. Please let me help you.”  
  
“Fine… But I’m going to be watching! And taking notes!”  
  
“God, I hope so.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Hmm?” He pushed up his sleeves, setting his whip on the table. He could almost hear the memory of a disgruntled cook yelling about weapons on the cooking table.  
  
Alucard laughed, “Trevor Belmont is going to cook a meal for us. Something that mommy used to make?”  
  
Trevor scoffed, “Please. My mother was out hunting with the rest of them. No, no, there were servants for things like cleaning and cooking and tending to the wee Belmont until he was ready to learn how to fight.”  
  
“The contrasts of our childhood continue to astound and…depress me, Belmont.”  
  
“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad.” Using a cloth to grab the handle, he hefted the pot up and off the fire.  
  
“Wait,” Sypha said, “what are you—“  
  
“Just putting it aside.” Under his breath he muttered, “I think there are some corpses outside this can melt...”  
  
He heard Alucard snort. Trevor grabbed a fresh pot and put a little bit of water in. He then tossed some tomatoes to Sypha who barely caught one with her hands and caught the rest with some hastily cast magic. “Crush those into a bowl for me.”  
  
The floating tomatoes wandered over to the pot and Trevor swiped them out of the air before she pulverized them. “No! Into. A bowl. There a steps to this.”  
  
She did as he asked. Meanwhile Alucard had sat forward a little, clearly interested.  
  
“You,” Trevor said.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Feel up to peeling some garlic?”  
  
“Fuck off,” he said as he sat back again.  
  
Trevor laughed. “No really, you can help.” He nudged a crate under the table with his foot. “There are some potatoes and carrots in there, peel them.”  
  
Sypha looked up from her bowl, “You’re supposed to peel them?”  
  
Instead of answering, Trevor grabbed a handful of herbs and passed them to her. “When that’s all mashed up, mix those in with them. Here,” he handed her a mortar and pestle, “use this.”  
  
“This looks and feels more like witchcraft than anything else I’ve ever seen.”  
  
“Your vegetables,” Alucard said, holding the bowl out to him. Briefly, Trevor wondered if he actually used a knife or just his terrifyingly sharp fingernails.  
  
Sypha gave her bowl and he added the contents to the pot. Next went in the potatoes, the carrots still off to the side.  
  
“You didn’t—“  
  
“They cook faster,” Trevor said, “you put it all in at once and somethings will be overcooked, inedible mush and the rest will be undercooked, inedible rocks.”  
  
They work in silence for about an hour. Sypha asking questions and taking notes while the food simmered. Eventually Alucard discretely took the pot of her mess out of the room. He returned empty handed. When the food was ready Trevor served them all bowls with a piece bread.  
  
Sypha had dragged the barrel closer to the table at some point and now sat on it, Alucard on the floor beside her. She was the first to taste it. “Oh my god, Trevor. This! This is, it’s—“  
  
“Actually good,” Alucard said.  
  
“Why are you out hunting monsters, you should be a cook.”  
  
“Eh,” Trevor said with a shrug as he sat on the table, “why not both?”  
  
Alucard put his spoon down, “And you’ve ruined it.”  
  
Trevor laughed through a mouthful of food. “Come on,” he said once he managed to swallow without choking, “even I’m not that much of a fucking degenerate. There’s no amount of alcohol that could get me to put demon flesh in my mouth.”  
  
The three sat in a comfortable quiet as they ate, even Alucard. Trevor couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride at that. Even though he knew later he would use it as ammo to goad Alucard into another tiff.  
  
“Thank you,” Sypha said. “Thank you, Trevor, for...saving us. Thank you, Alucard, for staying. Thank you both for just…being in my life. For being my family.”  
  
Alucard leaned back, resting his head against her leg. Trevor perched his foot on the edge of the barrel and Sypha wrapped an arm around his leg, resting her head on his knee.


End file.
